Spintry, she had called him.
He knew that she knew he knew the definition of the word, probably equating why she said it. But still, it hurt.
He was an intellectual, not a prostitute. The thought only slightly eased him as he searched for his student.
A franion, he heard behind the walls.
This was not helping any.
Alas, his nighttime wanderings were known throughout the capitol (except perhaps his esteemed naïve pupil) so loose man he could not deny. But spintry? Why, she herself was a-
No. He would not sink to her level. He decided instead to concentrate on his spells. What was required to shift the…
Ah. There she was. The woman of his- no, the girl he was instructing. She of the wild hair and constant furred or winged companions. She, who smiled a grin that showed wisdom much beyond her young years, that made him feel young but at the same time, too old to enjoy her passions. She who challenged him, shared in his love to devour new ideas and spells. She, the only Wild mage. Put him to shame sometimes, but she was brilliant. In more ways than one.
He then realized a way to stop the crazy rumors.
So what if the effort of spermatoschesis was more difficult than his usual ways of dealing with pain below? He was a great mage. The most powerful in the nation. He could do what some thought impossible. He'd try at least.
He'd try until his goal, untamed as she was, was conquered.